And Now for the Second Act
by unleashmysoul
Summary: White Lines will Lead him home . . . Craig x Manny x Ellie
1. Craig: White Lines Will Lead Me Home

**Authors Notes:** I know I have other stories that are desperately needing attention, but I couldn't get this out of my head. It has been slightly modified to fit with the more current promos and spoilers. Hopefully I can get this finished before the Episode airs but if not, I'll continue anyways.

**What it Feels Like To Be A Ghost**

_Part One : Prologue_

Sounds of metal on glass echo softly in the small airplane bathroom. The razor cuts the small white ball into a fine power. Tiny little shards that will burn his nose and the back of his throat, are separated out into four generous lines, that glisten from a lightbulb that hangs over the sink. Where the soap should be, a disposable razor for shaving lies in pieces with one razor missing from the three. A small droplet of blood, that dripped from a finger when his over anxious disassembly caused him to nick himself, runs down the sink and pools around the drain.

He pulls a straw from his pocket, it's previous place had been in his Pepsi that was served to him by a short, blonde flight attendant that had said he reminded her of her son. He briefly wonders if she would still say that now as he leans down over the small mirror that had been in his other pocket. The straw goes to his nose and is inserted slightly as he plugs the other nostril and inhales, first the sweet scent of Pepsi then the finely cut shards that are cutting his flesh as they pass through his nasal cavity and go down the back of his esophagus. He pretends not to see his reflection in the mirror as he inhales each line, pausing once to switch the straw from his left side, to his right.

Once the last line is gone, he pulls his head up and removes the straw and pinches his nose to help alleviate the burning. A minute passes and the intense pain is gone only to be replaced by a burst of energy and a euphoric sense of happiness. He knows what he's doing is wrong, but right now it doesn't matter. He's too high to care. Later when he's sober, he'll rationalize it with his twisted addicted mind distorting fiction into fact, and start the spiral down again.

He hears an overhead page from out the door, warning of the final decent and the last bit of sobriety wonders if it's some type of jibe at his actions and the fact he's about to greet his girlfriend who surely would abandon him if only she knew. He wouldn't worry about that right now though. He needs to focus on cleaning up the evidence of his newest imperfection.

He first puts the straw and the now empty baggy wrapped up in paper towels into the trash. Next he rinses off the mirror and razor blade, and places them back into his toiletry bag with the broken disposable razor. He pulls out his toothbrush, the original intention for the bathroom trip. He squeezes a dab of toothpaste onto the bristles. The taste of mint is lost on his numb tongue, but he's sure this will please his girlfriend. He spits out the remaining toothpaste and rinses his mouth out and finally takes a look in the mirror.

His eyes are dilated and bloodshot, dark bags beneath them. He frowns and pulls a pair of cheap sunglasses he picked up at the airport before he boarded when he had seen his eyes look exactly the same. He needs them to hide his indiscretions. He slips them on and sees himself in them for the first time. He smirks at the resemblance to Tom Cruise in Risky Business and wonders if it would be better to greet his girlfriend wearing only a button down shirt, white briefs and some socks. He's sure he could manage a slide while singing.

A knock on the door interrupts his thoughts, his short attention span has only gotten shorter since the first time he placed that straw to his nose so many months before. He's unsure what the voice said that called through the door, but he remembers something about returning to his seat.

He gathers his things and opens the door. It's the blonde flight attendant and she does not look amused. She peers around him into the bathroom as if searching for something. Seeing nothing she lets him pass, he doesn't see her shaking her head, but is now positive that she no longer thinks he reminds her of her son. Unless her son is a cocain addicted wanna be rock star. He doubts that he is.

Once back at his seat, he buckles his seat belt and looks out the window, He can see the CN Tower, Almost home. His goal was to stay sober at home, that dream died at 30,000 feet.

"Please remain seated with your seat belt fastened as the plane touches down. The captain will turn off the Seatbelt sign when you can move freely around the cabin. Welcome to Toronto."


	2. Manny: Everything I do, I do it For You

**Authors Notes:** Yes I know this is a Part Two Of A Prologue, which technially isn't allowed, but I felt this was needed and It's not really a chapter so hense the Prologue Part Two. Thanks for the reviews so far and to the many people who have stopped to read.

**What it Feels Like To Be A Ghost**

_Part One : Prologue Part Two_

She stands at the bottom of the escalator, nervous and unsure if she should take the five steps forward and step on. If she does, it will take her to him and they will have the romantic reunion she's planned and imaged for so many months. If she doesn't it will surely drive him straight to a certain red head and they will be over forever. Even though her fears are inevitable to come true, she decides to let her self pretend they aren't for just a little longer. After all he did choose her, she might as well let it ride until he finally realizes his mistake.

She takes those steps, quickly so there is no turning back. As the slow incline drives forward, she tries to get her perfect girlfriend mode to turn on. It's a little slow starting today, especially since she over heard Jimmy Brooks talking to Spinner Mason talking about how they all have heard from him in the last week, including that damn red head. Oh how she hates that girl.

A phone call, so simple, yet so apparently difficult to when it comes to dialing her number. She knew for months now that he calls the ex band members at least once a week. She has only been privileged to hearing his voice mail lately, when she calls him, he stopped calling her weeks ago. She feels her body tense and a tear start at the corner of her eye as she thinks about those phone conversations he must have had with that whore.

The part that hurts the most about that, is she knows that girl she loathes so much is not a whore. She's a bright, passionate girl that puts her own needs and desires aside for his. She is the one that told him to follow his dreams, the one that made him leave. She was willing to let him go, even if she needed him. Damn you Ellie Nash. Damn you to hell.

It should have been her, his girlfriend, to tell him to follow his dreams. Instead she felt alone and selfish for wanting him to stay and be by her side. She wanted him to wait until she could go with him. She never told him stay or go, because she hadn't been asked about what he should do. Her thoughts, wants and desires weren't even considered. He had already made up his mind by the time he had come to her to say goodbye.

She didn't cry then, She plastered on the fake smile and cheered him on, since that's what she is supposed to do best. As soon as he was gone and she was alone she cried for hours. She repeated this several times since he boarded a plane in this same airport. Love sick over his absence, forlorn over his abandonment of her.

Under the short skirts and low cut shirts, she is still the love struck girl in braids, the one that believes in romance and soul mates. She wants so badly what her best friend has. She wants her first love to be her forever love. Sean came back for Emma, just like he came back to her. They must be destined right? What she fails to realize is she wasn't his first love, even if he was hers. His first love is off somewhere in love with someone new.

She'll keep telling herself that this is what's right. That him and her are meant to be. She'll keep fighting for it until he walks away because she just can't do it herself. She refuses to give in to the fact that he just doesn't love her the way she loves him, even if deep in her heart of hearts, she knows it and feels it's pain everyday.

She feels a tear run down her cheek as she sharply inhales a breath trying not to let her lip quiver or more tears fall. No, she will not cry. Not now, not here, standing on an escalator between some over weight guy that smells and an older guy that looks as if he might try and console her. Not after getting up two hours early just to try and make herself look perfect for him.

She wipes away the tear and holds her head up high. Finally the escalator has gotten to the top, perfect girlfriend mode kicks in. She rubs her hands together in anticipation and steps off. She grips her purse tightly and walks forward with her mission in mind.


End file.
